


Sittin' in a Tree

by Unpretty



Series: Contrafacta [2]
Category: The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous Tense Changes, Grooming, Intrusive Thoughts, Mental Illness, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Savage Land, Vaginal Fingering, a lot of terrible formatting decisions, and also regular poetry, i hope you like slam poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 18:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12636552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unpretty/pseuds/Unpretty
Summary: OR: The Savage Handjob OR: Paleo Fellatio OR: Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls (Please Stick To The Showers And The Tubs That You're Used To)This fic takes place at the tail-end (pun INTENDED) of Squirrel Girl #25.





	1. Doreen

**Author's Note:**

> Sentences that start with an underlined letter have secret text, but it doesn't work on mobile. Sorry, mobile readers!

" _N ow_ have we saved the Savage Land?" Squirrel Girl asked.

"It seems pretty saved," Nancy admitted.

They looked at Kraven. Kraven gave a nod that was also a shrug. Squirrel Girl threw her fists up in triumph. "We saved the Savage Land! Completely this time!"

"Thank _goodness_ ," Tippy Toe said, climbing up Kraven with casual familiarity. She curled up in the fur on his shoulders, making it clear that she had chosen him for the surface area available for her to lay on. She yawned. "I never thought I'd _miss_ pretending to be a scarf." Kraven scritched the squirrel near to the ribbon around her neck.

"Now that _your_ work here is done, Squirrel Girl," Nancy said meaningfully, "maybe you can see about figuring out where my friend went? "

"Right!" she said. "Your totally awesome, totally normal friend that I've met because we're different people."

"... right. That one."

Nancy continued to be unimpressed by her best human friend's ability to maintain a secret identity.

"No," Kraven said.

"Excuse me?" Nancy said.

"You must look for your friend on your own, Miss Whitehead," Kraven said. "The Girl of Squirrels comes with me."

"Is this about why you've been in the Savage Land raising an army of dinosaurs?" Squirrel Girl asked, bouncing excited on her toes.

"Yes," Kraven lied.

* * *

" _H ow_ do you have a _house_ in the _Savage Land_?" Doreen demanded.

"I built it," Kraven explained, "many years ago."

It was a log cabin in a tree. It was a treehouse. She should not have been surprised that Kraven had a treehouse in the land before time, and yet.

"You still haven't told me why you were here in the first place," Doreen said, stepping cautiously inside off the balcony.

"I am the King of the Savage Land."

"You're _what_?" she asked, appalled. "According to who?"

"According to me," he said, "and my dinosaurs." He lifted Tippy Toe off of his shoulder, and set her down on the taxidermied head of a sabretoothed tiger.

"... okay. Yeah, that's fair." The room smelled like honeysuckle and herbs. "It's not like there's a lot of competition for the throne."

"There is one," Kraven said, lighting a match by the fireplace, "but he is an imbecile and an Englishman."

Doreen hesitated at the sight of a table made from half a tree trunk, covered in glass beakers and tubes. "That's a nice... chemistry set...?"

"You know what it is," Kraven chided, the fire roaring to life. Light glinted off the glass.

"If you've been breaking bad in the jungle I'm going to be _so mad_ ," she warned.

"Sit," he said, pointing to a fur-covered seat. "I am sober," he assured her. "Mostly."

" _Kraven_."

"I would say that I am baseline," he said. "You would not like me sober. Sit."

That didn't sound like the healthiest way to deal with mental illness, but he seemed better than he'd been. She wasn't any kind of an expert. Who was she to dictate the terms of his recovery? She sat down. "What did you want my help with?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said. "I wanted you alone, but I thought you would prefer I not say so in front of your Nancy."

"Oh." She started to clench her fists in a nervous gesture, but stopped because it hurt. "Is this a _tail-pulling_ thing?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. 

"No."

"Oh." Why was that weirder? Why was that worse? She thought of the way he had asked her to leave him to Ultron, she thought of the way that she hadn't. She would have done it for anyone. Did he know she'd have done it for anyone? 

"You are nervous again, _Belka_ ," Kraven observed. 

"No," she scoffed. Her tail was twitching wildly. "Kinda," she admitted. "Being alone in the woods with a guy is weird."

"Oh."

"Not like that!" she added quickly. "I mean—because we've..." She tapped her hands together, alternating the lacing of her fingers in a gesture that was not particularly evocative. Tippy Toe still seemed to be sleeping. "Conversationally weird. Not physically weird."

Suddenly, Kraven knelt in front of her. Her eyes widened.

"Oh, no," she said.

"Give me your hands," he said.

"Can I not?" She pressed her knees together and wished for pants.

"Not _hand_ , silly girl. Hands. Give me your hands." He held his palms up with an air of impatience that was reassuring in this context. Tentatively, she rested her hands on his. He flipped them over to look at them, and she realized the problem.

The skin of her palms was burnt, blistered in places. Not as bad as it had been before, having had some time to heal, but she'd been using her hands near constantly. Dark lines along her skin looked like lightning. Her nerve endings felt raw.

Hand injuries were the _worst_.

"I will take care of this," Kraven said.

"It's really fine," she said. He raised an eyebrow. He lifted one hand, and pointed his index finger close to her palm. "Wait, no—" 

He poked.

" _Ow!_ " She winced, trying to pull her hand away from him, but he held her by the wrist.

"Hey!" Tippy Toe said, lifting her head to try and see what was happening.

"Not fine," he said, letting Doreen go and standing back up.

"It's fine, Tippy," Doreen assured the squirrel. "He's not hurting me."

"Your girl is stubborn," Kraven informed Tippy, unable to speak squirrel but understanding the alarmed body language. "Tell her to behave, and let me take care of her."

"He wants to take care of you?" Tippy asked Doreen. 

She started to turn red. "I don't need it," she chittered. 

"Yes you do," Tippy said, laying back down. "I'm glad _someone's_ doing it. I'd take care of you myself, if I weren't too small. Tell him to brush your tail while he's at it, there isn't anyone else here to help me."

"Tell him yourself," she said, aware Tippy could do no such thing. 

"This is going to hurt," Kraven warned, kneeling in front of her again. He had a cloth in one hand, and unmarked bottles in the other. None of that was reassuring.

"It should heal okay on its own," she said.

"Less okay with an infection," he said. "Dinosaurs are not clean. You have open sores."

"You're making it sound a lot grosser than— _ow!_ " He didn't warn her before pouring what must have been pure alcohol over her hands. She bit down on her lower lip, her eyes watering.

This would have been a lot easier if there'd been a T-Rex, or if he'd been trying to punch her. Then there'd be _distractions_ , and _adrenaline_ , and all of the things that stopped things that ought to hurt from hurting until she tried to sleep.

There was still dirt and who-knew-what-else on her skin. He gripped her by the wrist and the back of her hand, and brushed the wet cloth over the spots that seemed to need it most. She couldn't decide if he was being gentle. The softest touch in the world would still feel like scratching exposed nerves.

Her hands felt small, and the pain felt disproportionate.

"What does Squirrel Girl think is a weird conversation?" Kraven wondered, a questionable attempt at a bedside manner. She shrugged, her mouth pressed to a thin line. "I am curious," he persisted. "Where is your way with words, for which you are so known?"

She huffed. "It's not—I mean, I'm not _super_ eloquent, or anything. I don't think that's what I'm known for."

"Hmm."

"I'm a good listener," she said. "Like, I don't think it's bragging to say that? I'm awesome at listening. I'm good at figuring out problems, and compromises. It's just, sometimes people don't want that. Which makes it weird."

"I see," he said, though she wasn't sure he did. He let her go to pour something green and slimey onto his hand. 

"Why _are_ you in the Savage La— _oh_ my _gosh_."

Green slime felt _amazing_. He rubbed it over her hands with his thumbs.

"I rule this land," he said. "It is my responsibility to keep it safe."

"Your dinosaurs."

"Yes." He stood. "This relief is temporary," he warned.

"Aw." She watched him wash his hands with a jug of water. She wondered if he'd made the clay jug himself. He apparently had a lot of weird, not-hunting skills. "I'm glad you're nice to animals, sometimes."

"Kindness is earned with obedience." With strips of cloth in his hands, he once again knelt to wrap her palms in them like bandages.

She frowned. "Maybe you could try being nice just because?"

"No."

"You're nice to _me_ ," she pointed out. It went without saying that she wasn't interested in obeying anything.

" _You_ are kind to _me_ ," he countered. "... when I behave."

"That's not—no."

He grinned. "Had you misunderstood who was the animal here?" He tied her bandages into little bows at her wrists, like ribbons.

"I'm not training you!" she protested. "You're not an animal."

"All men are animals." He kissed her fingertips, and her gaze went to Tippy, who was once again napping or pretending to nap. "Would you like something for the pain?"

She looked at his table of beakers and bowls and leaves and suspicious mushrooms. Her hands were already starting to throb again. She told herself it was the throb of healing. "No, thank you."

This time when he stood, he put his hand under her chin, tilting her face towards his. "You don't trust me?" he teased.

She bit her lip.

"Good," he said, with relish. His thumb stroked her jaw.

Tippy Toe had _not_ been sleeping. She had instead been waiting for her moment to strike. She took it, climbing up Kraven's leg and up to his shoulder, dropping a wooden comb from her mouth to her paws and holding it outward. "Kraven, would you _please_ take care of her tail so we don't have to?  Squirrels like grooming as much as the next guy, but have you seen how big her tail is? We have small paws, dude. Your hands are huge. Do squirrelkind a solid."

"Tippy!" 

Kraven still did not speak squirrel. He _did_ get the gist of being handed a comb. He took it, and considered it. "Am I to be Kraven the Hairdresser now?"

" _No._ " She tried to grab her tail to stop its nervous movement. Kraven grabbed it instead, and she squeaked in alarm.

"Careful of your hands," he warned. He held up the comb. "Explain."

"Uuugh." She rolled her eyes. "... Tippy wants you to brush my tail."

Kraven looked at her tail. He tried to look at Tippy, looking smug on his shoulder. He looked at Doreen. "Does this have any particular _meaning_ to squirrels?" he asked.

"No!" Her tail twitched in his hand, trying to escape his grip. "Normally they take care of their _own_ tails, but I can't always reach all of mine, so I have my friends help me. Sometimes. It's not weird."

"I see." He let her tail go. "I will do this."

"Don't encourage her," Doreen said. "You've done more than enough." She held up her bandaged hands as proof.

"You rescued me from Ultron's torture," Kraven reminded her, transferring Tippy to Doreen's lap. Tippy helpfully held the comb so his hands would be free.

"You specifically asked me not to," she reminded him, "so I don't think that counts."

"We are not counting," he said, pulling an enormous yellow pelt from a crude wooden chest.

"We're not?"

He stepped out of his shoes. "No." He rolled the fur out onto the floor, and sat down cross-legged on top of it. "Come sit," he said, and Tippy was already bounding towards him with the comb in her teeth. He accepted it with a small pat on her head. "Thank you, little squirrel."

Such betrayal! How quickly Tippy took sides, based on nothing more than nut-based bribes and the command of dinosaur armies and a promise to tend to Doreen's every need.

_B etrayal_.

Doreen sighed as she kicked her sneakers off to join his shoes. "What are we doing if we're not counting?" she asked, joining Kraven and Tippy Toe on the floor. She had to sit with her back to Kraven, and that made things awkward.

This whole _thing_ was awkward. It wasn't weird when squirrels were doing it—it wouldn't even be awkward if _Nancy_ were doing it—but this was Kraven. With his noted history of pulling her tail. And she was wearing a tiger print bikini.

"You did no more or less for me than you'd have done for anyone," he said. Grabbing her tail, he started to rake the comb through her fur.

It felt nice. It felt _really_ nice.

"I am not anyone," he said. "I am Kraven the Hunter, who cannot die. You did not calculate. You followed your instincts."

"Hmmmmm." Slowly she uncrossed her legs, stretching her toes out on the pelt. She brought her knees up high enough that she could lean forward and rest her head on them, wrapping her arms around her thighs.

"This is not about favors, or who owes what. I am following _my_ instincts."

"Mmm." She was only half-listening. He was an expert at handling fur. His fingers were laced through it, gripping her skin, a persistent pull from the comb's teeth.

"You should do this more often," he said.

"Mm-hmm," she agreed.

"You must shed a great deal."

"What?" She sat up to try and look behind herself.

He had already accumulated a medium-sized dog's worth of shed fur, previously trapped in her undercoat.

"Oh my _gosh_ ," she said, horrified. She turned back around, hiding her face in her knees as he laughed. Her tail would have flailed if he hadn't held it.

"I told you," Tippy said defensively, "we're small! We can only do so much."

"I'm so gross," she groaned. His hands moved lower on her tail, closer to her spine, and her breath caught.

"You will feel much better when we're done," he assured her.

Was he brushing her like a dog? Was that what this was? She felt all mixed-up about it. She didn't like questioning his motives, but he was the one who kept telling her not to trust him. It made everything so complicated.

He didn't seem like he should be complicated.

"What kind of animals did you used to hunt?" she asked. "Lions and stuff, right?"

"Sometimes," he said. "If they had killed men."

"Hmm."

"I worked for zoos."

"You did?" She tried to look back to see his face, but it didn't work when he was holding her tail. "I didn't know that."

"It was something I was known for," he said. "Before."

"Oh."

"I would capture animals for exhibits. The Staten Island Zoo—I brought them tigers, gorillas. Maybe now they have their children. I killed man-eaters, beasts that did not know their place."

He brushed her tail in silence.

"It was another life," he said. "The world is different now."

"You have dinosaurs now," she said.

"I do," he agreed. His hands were dangerously close to the base of her tail, the comb catching all the knots in what she considered the worst spot to try brushing. She pressed her forehead to her knees and felt her face get hot.

It felt so _nice_ , though. The points of the comb's teeth were scratching against her skin, and when they hit just the right spot her whole body shuddered.

"Will you be returning to your Nancy tonight?" Kraven asked.

" _Ermph_." What would she do if she did? Change into her normal clothes, and put on some gloves to hide her bandages? "Tippy?" she asked. "Can you let Nancy know that I'm okay for tonight? It turns out that holding onto electrified metal for long enough to bend it is actually, like, _super_ bad for you. Just make sure she knows I haven't been kidnapped or eaten by a raptor."

"It is very strange to watch you do that," Kraven said. "Making little squirrel noises."

"Are the raptors going to eat _me_?" Tippy asked, and Doreen translated.

"Take the whistle," he suggested. "You may ride Annabelle, if you'd like."

"Which one is Annabelle?"

"The biggest Tyrannosaurus."

This interlude was going to go to Tippy's head, Doreen could already tell. She was going to think riding dinosaurs was the natural order of things.

She didn't think too hard about the fact that they were alone.

"I think we are done, _Belka_ ," Kraven said, no longer touching her. Her tail felt lighter, but that might have been placebo. She turned sideways to see the damage. It was a pile of fur the size of a large dog, or a small bear.

"That's _horrifying_ ," she said.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"I'd feel better if I didn't have to _look_ at it," she said, making a face.

"Let me see your hands."

She held them up, pleased to show that she hadn't fidgeted with the bandages and his hard work was intact.

Instead of whatever she'd expected, he used both hands to take her by the wrists, moving them out of the way and darting forward to catch her mouth with his. She made a high-pitched sound of surprise, but his hold on her kept her from tipping over. When he pulled away, his grip loosened, but he didn't let her go.

"I thought you said no tail-pulling," she said, breathless.

"No," he agreed, releasing her wrists to cup her face. "Just this." He kissed her again, less sudden but no less fierce.

"What—why—" She tried to verbalize a question between the meeting of their mouths, but he was making it difficult.

"I was held captive by a robot dinosaur," he said, "and you punched it. Wearing a little tiger-stripe bathing suit."

Okay, well. When he put it like that, it did sound kind of hot.

He was leaning forward on his knees, the tips of his fingers along the back of her neck. There was kissing, and then there was _this_ , whatever this was that was making her feel so overwhelmed.

He pulled her closer, not onto his lap but between his legs instead, arranging her legs up over his thighs. Her forearms rested on his shoulders. His hands wandered over her stomach, her back, up underneath her top. The corner of his mouth turned upward.

" _Obviously_ I'm not wearing a bra," she said, exasperated. "This is a _bikini_. It's the _Savage Land_.  There are _dinosaurs_."

"I find no flaw in your reasoning." His hands felt so _nice_. Big, warm, rough. He ran his thumbs over her nipples and she pressed into his touch. He pulled at the knot over her shoulder to make her top fall, and nuzzled at the skin between her breasts.

"You know that when I said 'tail-pulling' what I actually meant was sex, right?"

" _Da, Belka_ ," he sighed. Somehow she could hear him roll his eyes. "I will not be fucking an injured woman."

"I was just checking!" 

He nipped at her neck, then bit her shoulder, pressing his teeth into her skin just until she made a sound. He squeezed her breasts, dotted kisses up her neck and along her jaw until his mouth reached hers. She found herself squirming, hips wiggling. Her tail curled between her shoulderblades, trying to keep her balanced.

"I do not have a bed here," Kraven warned, "so I will give you my hammock for the night."

"We can share," she said, "if you don't mind."

He buried his face in her neck, tickling her a little with his moustache. "I don't mind sharing," he said, muffled.

This had turned into a topless makeout session very quickly. Was that normal? Was it weird that it felt so normal?

"Are we still friends?" she asked.

" _Yes_?"

" _Just_ friends?" she pressed. "Is this friendly? With benefits? Is that what this is?"

"Call it what you like," he said with a shrug. "I have brought you no flowers and made you no meal."

"I guess," she said, gnawing at her lower lip and looking at the bow on her wrist.

"If you were _mine_ ," he said, his hands on her waist and his fingers pressing hard into her skin, "there would be no doubt."

"Oh." Her insides all flip-flopped. "That's cool."

"How are your hands?" he asked.

"They're okay." They throbbed, still. They were no longer the only part of her throbbing, though they were the only part that hurt.

"They will not keep you from sleeping?"

"I'm not really tired yet," she said, "but I've slept through worse."

"Hmm." His hand slid down between her legs.

" _Oh well hi there friendly,_ " she said, her voice high and her limbs tensing. Her tail wrapped around her waist.

"Very friendly," he agreed, grinning wide and wolfish and unnaturally white. "Helping you relax," he said, "so you can sleep."

"Is _that_ what we're doing."

"Yes," he said, ignoring her tone, fingers sliding past fabric to stroke her clit. "Like a massage," he added, and she laughed.

"Is that what they call this where you're from?"

"No," he said, "most people call this fingering."

She barked a noisy laugh, hiding her face in his shoulder to try and muffle it. Her tail returned to her back.

"Please do not believe strange men who tell you this is a massage, _Belka_."

She started to shake. Her tail bounced.

"You are in college. _Belka_. Please."

"This is so dumb," she managed finally, her voice barely audible. "You _butt_."

"Such _insults_ I endure," he said, easing one finger inside of her, and she gasped.

" _Sergei_ —oh my _gosh_ , Sergei, _don't_."

He froze. "No?"

"You're going to confuse me!" she complained, unable to help rocking against the penetration. "Don't—not if you're going to be _silly_."

"Hmm." He narrowed his eyes, considering whether he found this complaint valid. "No," he decided, pushing a second finger inside of her and curling them both.

" _Mmmph_." Her back arched, her hips rocked. "This is—this is _definitely_ sex, by the way."

"It is?"

"Yes!"

"Foreplay, maybe."

"No, this is sex."

"My penis disagrees."

"It can be sex without your—oh, _oh_ —don't _do_ that when I'm trying to _talk_ — _ah_ —without your _penis_."

"Since when?"

"Since always!" She was grinding down hard onto his hand, his thumb pressed against her clit. "How do you think girls have sex?"

"With my penis?"

"With _each other_."

"Do they?"

"Yes!"

"It counts?"

" _Yes!_ "

"Huh."

She giggled, curling against his chest and loosely raking her claws through his hair. Her tail swished briefly before returning to a curl; movement made her feel unbalanced. " _Please_ tell me you didn't _actually_ think girls couldn't have sex."

"I never thought about it."

"Really?"

"Why would I think about sex that didn't involve my penis?" he asked, and she laughed. His fingers were still working inside her, persistent and mortifyingly noisy motion. "Do you often think of sex that doesn't involve you?"

"Don't you _dare_ make me the weird one," she said, her elbows pushing against his shoulders, her legs pressing down on his thighs. "This position isn't working, but I can't push you over," she added.

He tipped her backward so quickly she shrieked in surprise, trying to grab him. He pinned her wrists to the ground with his free hand before she could.

"Careful of your hands," he reminded her.

"Careful of my me!" she shot back.

"Is this better, or no?" he asked.

He was looming over her, her body caged beneath his, one hand on her wrists and the other between her legs. He was half in shadow, lit by firelight, still smelling like metal and sweat.

"Yeah no this is good." She did a little wiggle to settle in, finding the best angle for her legs. "... did you want to have sex that _does_ involve your penis?"

"Yes," he said immediately. "But I don't have supplies."

"Oh?" She frowned. "Oh!"

"I did not expect to see friendly faces."

Condoms were one of the few things that could not be somehow fashioned out of things found in the jungle. She _hoped_.

"That's unfortunate," she said, and he bent down to kiss her, crushing his mouth to hers.

"You _cannot_ imagine," he said, his voice low, thrusting his fingers deeper for emphasis. "I said I would think of you, didn't I? Now here you are, and I can't have you."

Her back arched up off the floor, her tail wrapping around his waist. "Touch me touch me touch me," she sang, wanting him everywhere the closer she came. Telling her that he'd thought about her was a deliberate ploy on his part, and she knew it, but it worked anyway.

" _Demanding_ ," he accused, but he let her wrists go, squeezed her breast and pinched her nipple and pressed kisses to her throat.

"You have the _nicest_ hands."

"You think so?" His thumb circled her clit, his other hand running over her ribs, her stomach, back up to her breasts.

"They're _wonderful_ —talk to me, I need you to talk to me." She was still holding her hands up above her head, keeping them where he'd held them before.

"Shall I whisper sweet nothings in Russian?" he asked, kissing along her jaw.

"Nnnot this time," she managed, close but not close enough. If she didn't finish soon she was worried she'd end up bruised in awkward places, overworked and frustrated. "I want to understand—please, Sergei?"

" _Belka_ ," he growled in her ear, and she shuddered beneath him. "I will spoil you, precious thing. Do you know that I have dreamed of the sounds you made in my bed?" She tightened around his fingers, her tail tightening around the rest of him, gasping. "Just like that."

"More, _more_."

"Can you take it?"

" _Yes!_ "

"Beautiful _Belka_ , gorgeous girl, show me that pretty face of yours—let me hear my name when you beg for mercy."

" _Sergei._ "

" _Yes._ "

"Don't stop—don't you _dare_ —"

Her back had arched higher, her neck stretched with her spine. The fingers of one hand drove hard and fast, the fingers of the other pressed into her jaw to tilt her head.

"Look at me," he said, and she did. There was something hungry in his eyes, something predatory that made her insides sing.

And her outsides.

More of a scream than a song.

The sound couldn't have been _too_ bad, since his forehead was pressed to hers as she started to fall limp. He eased his fingers out of her, made a gratuitous show of lifting them to his mouth.

"Gross," she teased, but he quieted her by pushing his fingers into _her_ mouth, instead. " _Mmmph!_ " 

Then he kissed her, and her tongue was a confused mess of mingling fluids. Everything was warmth and musk and the sound of the crackling fire. 

"That wasn't less gross," she said. 

"Feh." He rolled off of her to lay beside her instead. She spared a glance downward at him. 

That sure was a hard-on.

"Your turn?" she suggested. 

"Not tonight."

"I'm not _that_ hurt."

"In the morning."

"I feel bad."

"Still?" he asked, exhaustion in his tone.

"I mean guilty," she clarified.

"Why?"

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"Many things bother me," he said with a shrug. "If it bothers me too much, I have hands." He undid his belt.

"Oh!" She perked up immediately.

"But not tonight." He tossed his belt aside, but kept his pants on.

"Aw," she said, deflating. "Why not?"

He held up the hand that had just recently been inside her, considering it. "My messes are harder to clean," he said, licking absentmindedly at one of his knuckles.

"Debatable," she said. "Actually—do you have a shower in here?" She didn't sit up to check.

"No."

"Ew."

"There is a waterfall outside."

"Whaaaaaat!" She nudged at his arm with hers, both of them laying side-by-side on an animal pelt and looking at the beams of the ceiling. "Dude, that's awesome."

" _Da_."

"Does it feel like living in a fancy shampoo commercial or what?"

"Maybe."

"The Savage Land is rad as heck. Hand me my top thing?"

He made a discontented noise, running his hands over the pelt around them before reaching underneath himself. He pulled it free from under his back, and dropped it onto her chest. She tried to wrap it around herself with as little hand-motion as possible.

"Where do I go if I have to pee?" she asked.

"Outside."

"I lied, the Savage Land sucks big time." She huffed, and Kraven leaned sideways to intervene in her imminent clothing disaster, tying a neat knot at her shoulder. "I don't need to pee," she added. "I was just asking. I'm not peeing in your dinosaur garden. Do you have a dinosaur garden?"

"Of sorts." He settled onto his back again, lacing his fingers over his stomach. "You left Ultron's core with your Nancy?"

"Yeah."

"Her boy is Latverian."

"He's not her boy."

"No?"

"I don't think it worked out. Irreconcilable differences in Doom opinions."

"Ah."

"The core is safe."

"Hmm."

"Don't try to sneak back to camp to steal the core and destroy it," she warned.

"It would be safer."

"I have a plan," she reminded him.

"Hmm."

"You could go back with us!" she suggested. "Them. The computer science students. I'll go back alone. In secret ways. But you could go back with them. So you could be sure the core was safe. If you wanted."

Secret identities were hard.

"I cannot leave the Savage Land."

She frowned. "Since when?"

"Since word has spread among hunters of the existence of this place," he said. "Poachmaster General has been defeated, for now, but there will be others."

"Aw, that's—wait, who?"

"Poachmaster General."

"Like a villain? A hunting villain? A guy who calls himself Poachmaster General, who you beat up?"

"Yes. That is part of the adventures I mentioned earlier. You may have missed it. There were many things happening."

"No, I remember!" She'd rolled onto her side to face him, excited. "So you have a villain? Like a rogues gallery?"

"You seem happy about this."

"I'm sorry, I know it's probably frustrating for you. It just feels like a step in the right direction! As far as being a hero, and not a villain. You know?"

"You're an optimist."

" _Ob_ viously. You can't just stay here forever, though."

"I must."

On the one hand, it would keep him safely quarantined from possible triggers. Like Spider-Men. On the other hand, it felt bad for his mental health. On a fundamental, common sense level. Only ever interacting with other people to beat them up for trying to kill dinosaurs felt like it would do weird things, psychologically.

"Doesn't the Savage Land have a security system?" she asked.

"What."

"I mean, it's not _all_ untamed. There's the core and everything. They might have cameras and things already, and they should install some if they don't. You could ask for them to keep an eye out! Then when there were hunters you could come take care of it, instead of sitting around waiting for them to show up."

He took the time to mull the question over. "This security system kills intruders?"

"No."

"It does not sound secure."

"It works for houses."

"Does it?" He sounded dubious.

"I mean, part of it is there have to be signs to let people know there's a security system," she explained. "That way _they_ know that _you'll_ know if they try anything, so they won't try anything. Right?"

"You are saying I need to make signs."

She felt like he was missing the point. "To let people know about the cameras, yeah."

"You think I should steal them?"

"No! You should _ask_. I'd... bet Nancy would agree to help you. To save the dinosaurs."

"I don't think she likes me."

"What? No. Of course she does. Why wouldn't she like you?"

"She is a sensible person."

"... true."

"Are you two..." Kraven tapped his fingers together the same way she'd done earlier.

"No! No. No way." Doreen frowned. "Until this thing with Stefan I kind of thought she wasn't interested in that. You know? She never mentioned it. I've read her fanfics. They're about cat people having cat adventures." She sighed. "Maybe I've been pigeonholing her. Girls can like cats _and_ boys. Which she does.  Which is fine."

"You, also, like men and felines."

"Yeah! Yeah." She was interrupted with a yawn. "That's how I know it's fine."

"Would you like me to take you to bed, _Belka_?"

"You mean hammock," she said. "Take me to hammock."

"For that, I leave you on the floor," he said, getting to his knees and shrugging out of his vest. He scooped her up and stood in one easy motion.

"Nuh-uh," she said, yawning again as he carried her. "You have to be nice to me, because I'm good. You said so."

"That is not what I said." She curled against his chest, and when he fell backward into his hammock, she squeaked and curled tighter. Her tail wrapped around herself, a little ball as he moved into position and the hammock rocked. She waited until he'd stopped moving to relax.

"I'm totes gonna touch your dick tomorrow," she warned him, and he laughed.


	2. Sergei

_tha thump thathump thathump_

He is listening to the beating of her heart. He can feel it on his chest, underneath her breathing.

He does not sleep. He sleeps little. They don't sell Benzedrine inhalers in stores anymore, but he makes do.

Shadows skitter in his sleep. Shining black carapaces, too many legs. Teeth that paralyze, leave him frozen and struggling to breathe.

Her resting heart rate is faster than most people.

_tha thump thathump thathump_

There is no struggle in this silence, this stillness.

He is Kraven the Hunter. He can spend days and weeks unmoving. Watching his prey, waiting to strike. He meditates in the temple of Death, and wants for nothing.

_Here for a single hour in the wide starlight  
We shall be happy, for—_

She likes his hands.

His hands have committed atrocities. He has snapped spines and crushed throats. His fingers have torn meat from bone. His palms have shattered skulls and pulled souls from bodies.

 _They’re_  
           _won_  
                 _der_  
                       _ful_  
she says  
                like it is obvious  
                                             like he must have known.

_tha thump thathump thathump_

He is Kraven the Hunter.

She sleeps on his chest in the perfect peace of a fearless creature.

Her heart constricts. Blood rushes to fill the emptiness.

_I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor_

All honorable men must be lion tamers.

~~There is no place left for honorable men.~~

He has sought to understand the squirrel, as once he had done for the spider. There is less of the squirrel to find. Too small, too easy to overlook. A creature of whispers, a storyteller, a messenger, a gossip.

There is a story where the squirrel saved the leopard. The leopard's hunger overwhelmed its gratitude as soon as it was free.

This speaks to him.

_tha thump thathump thathump_

Why would she ever be here, in the Savage Land?

He is an honorable man, a relic of a dead era. He sees the lie of the world, which plays at fairness, when he has seen what the world once was.

His birthright was stolen in fire and blood.

The Savage Land is freedom from lies. There is no law but strength. Who but Kraven could understand such a place? Who but Kraven could rule?

The universe conspires to bring them together.

_Squirrel-maiden, no, I do not quarrel  
With these dear chains, they don’t demean._

He has done his research.

Unbeatable,  
                      the Anti-Life,  
                                             Slayer of All That Breathes.

~~Small, helpless, he could succeed where all others had failed.~~

He has prayed for Death. He has prayed to Death. At the altar of Death his offerings have no equal. 

Life is the cage of a cowardly god to contain beasts beyond his control.

He is Kraven the Hunter.

He has tasted the freedom of Death. He has _earned_ it.

This, too, has been stolen from him.

_Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?_

_tha thump thathump thathump_

He sleeps as easily in filth and mud. The sky is fine shelter.

He built this shelter for trophies. He built it for things he could not reasonably carry. He built it for books, knowing while he did so the way those books would rot. Too hot, too damp.

He built a mausoleum, and filled it with dead things.

~~He is a dead thing.~~

She stretches in her sleep, pointing her toes. The hammock rocks.

His ribs are a cage for the animal in his heart.

He has known too many cages.

 _I think you're a reasonable man_  
                                                    she says  
_I don't want to fight you_  
                                      she says  
_Let's talk about this_  
                                she says  
and  
    when  
        she  
        sees  
    him  
she  
s m i l e s  
as if they could ever be friends.

She is sunlight, weightless and warm and merciless. Her heart is a star, a singularity, infinity.

He is Kraven the Hunter. From his prey he takes fur and fang. Here is his conquest. Here is his victory. Here are the claws that could not catch him. Here are the teeth that could not sink deep enough. Stronger, faster, smarter.

How does a man mount forgiveness? What honor is there in the breaking of an outstretched hand?

_Some are Born to sweet delight  
Some are Born to sweet delight_

This is his undoing. This has always been his undoing. A woman who tilts her chin upward to smile at him. A woman who seems too small to contain him.

A woman who tells him that he should be more.

A woman who draws blood.

~~The mighty Kraven the Hunter is a coward.~~

She will destroy him. He will let her destroy him. She will slide between his ribs to crack them open and set him free, and he will know no gratitude.

_ tha thump _

The sun is rising over the trees. The fire went out long ago.

_ tha thump _

He tried to stay away. He tried not to think of her. He fixates on targets, and every hunt has an ending. 

_ tha thump _

He knows himself well enough to know he can't be trusted. This is all he knows. He has seen himself twisted by nightmares into unfamiliar shapes. He knows it could happen again.

_Here for a single hour in the wide starlight_

_Sergei_ she said and she laughed when she said it and this is what he thinks of on nights that he cannot breathe.

There is an animal in his heart.

He thinks of his hand around her neck. He thinks of a collar around her neck. He thinks of chains on her wrists. He thinks of her on her knees. He thinks of tearing her open. He thinks of covering her with the scent of his possession. He thinks of pumping her full of his passion and violence, dominating her will.

~~He would make her submit and make her like it.~~

She yawns and wiggles and stretches all her limbs. She flexes her fingers like a test. She pulls his knots loose, until her palms are free. She tilts her chin upward to see his face, and smiles.

_boundless and bare  
The lone and level sands stretch far away._

"All better," she sings, showing him her hands and wiggling her fingers.

"Good."

"Sleep good?" she asks.

" _Da_."

She wiggles again.

He is hard. His erection is pinned between them. She can surely feel it as she moves.

Her hand slides between them, and she strokes him through his pants. She is shameless, she is sweet.

"... I don't know if I can do this in a hammock."

"No?"

Her mouth has a thoughtful twist that takes the rest of her face with it. "You ate me out that one time," she says, "so I wanted to try oral."

"Oh."

"Which I know isn't _really_ safe when you don't have _supplies_ ," she adds, quick as anything. "It just seems like it was fine? Last time we did stuff? So it will probably be fine? Unless you have diseases I don't know about. Which you might! You're old. I don't know if they knew about disease transmission back then."

"I didn't."

"Oh!" She is re-configuring the plan that she had begun to formulate. She is trying to do so in a way that is not judgmental. "Well, that's." She does not want to treat him as if his blood is poison, but deep down she worries that his blood is poison. "That's fine. We just won't—"

"I died," he interrupts. "New body. I have been more careful with this one." Sometimes, in some regards.

He could not die, but uncomfortable rashes were still a possibility.

"Oh! That's convenient. Not _that_ convenient, since you killed yourself, and that wasn't cool. And you weren't that careful with _me_."

"You are Squirrel Girl. You would warn me if I needed to be careful."

"I guess that's fair. Can we go to that waterfall you were talking about? I don't exactly get a lot of practice with this so I'd prefer ideal conditions, to minimize the likelihood that I'll get all gaggy."

"You want me to wash my dick first."

"I was _trying_ to be _tactful_."

* * *

When Squirrel Girl emerges from the trees, she is making a face. There is no concession to her own nudity in the way that she moves. He finds something charming about that. Most people become careful with themselves when they're bare. She refuses. 

"Peeing outside is the literal worst," she informs him. The sound of the falls is white noise, and he is waiting for her in the water. Her first act is to demand soap, non-verbal, childish grabbing motions with her hands. He tosses it just to see what she'll do. She nearly falls over trying to catch it, slipping in her hands, splashing around her thighs. She's cute. 

~~He could destroy her.~~

She makes a face at him. "Did you get this at the gift shop?" she asks, bubbles between her fingers. 

"There's a gift shop?" he asks. " _Americans_ ," he says, and she laughs. She comes closer, she leans on him, she wraps her fingers around his cock. She is slow and careful and he knows that she's worried she'll hurt him. She is _being gentle_  
with  
       _him._

"... you _can_ trust me to wash myself," he says. She presses her lips together, her face is evasive. It is a face that means she does not actually trust him to wash himself. He was old before she was born. He snatches the bar of soap away, and she sticks her tongue out at him. He taps her tongue with it, and she sputters, letting him go to flail her hands and scrape at her tongue with her teeth. He laughs.

" _Not_ cool, dude."

"Something had to be done about your filthy mouth," he suggests, enjoying the way she turns pink. Skin too thin for the sun to leave a mark, he can see the color of her blood beneath. 

"I have the _least_ filthy mouth," she says. She is not wrong. She is still sticking out her tongue. "How am I supposed to wash out _soap_?"

"I have suggestions." She giggles. He is hard beneath the water and her fingers are too gentle. He is thinking about her tongue, and the awkward way she suggested using her mouth. He is thinking that this is not a thing she asks, not a thing she does. Some part of him believes he might be special to have earned this favor. Some part of him knows that he is a toy to play with as she chooses, fearing no censure. 

"Fine!" she says, but she has her hands splayed on his stomach to push him. "But I'm not doing this underwater, okay?" 

It takes too long to find a configuration that agrees with her. She is very particular about how she would like this done. They find a spot near the edge of the water where the ground is uneven, and the length of his legs is not as difficult for her to manage. 

"Wait," he says, and he rests his fingers in her hair, and he takes a moment to commit this to his memory. The sight of her naked, water up to her waist, kneeling with his cock in front of her. 

It's a good sight. It will be a good memory, if he can keep it. It's a problem he has, losing time, losing pieces of himself.

"Can I...?"

"Yes," he says, and she gives his shaft an experimental lick. «There you go.»

"You like to talk dirty in Russian, huh?" she asks.

He wants to grip her hair, but there isn't enough. She's cropped it too short since he saw her last.

~~She did it deliberately to spite his desire.~~

He curls his fingers along the back of her scalp, and rubs the head of his cock along her face. Her breath catches. "Yes," he says.

She wraps her fingers around him, presses the length of him against the soft skin of her cheek. She makes it sweet and affectionate. "Is it because you like saying nasty stuff?" He says nothing as he thrusts between her palm and her face. "It's okay! It's kind of nice. You don't want to make me feel bad. Right?"

«I want to shove my cock down your throat until you choke on it.»

He can see her shiver. "I'm just going to stick with that so I don't feel weird about how hot that is." She licks the head of his cock, wraps her lips around him. Her mouth is small and hot and soft.

She is the Slayer of All That Breathes, she is the terror of Latveria, she is kneeling at his feet with his dick in her mouth.

«You're beautiful,» he says, because as long as he doesn't say it in English she won't hear the way he says it. «Worship me, darling, let me own you.» She hums as her lips move lower on his shaft, until he feels the entrance to her throat. Barely at all and she goes no further and he doesn't push even if he wants to.

He is Kraven the Hunter. He is patient.

~~What sounds would she make if he held her head still and thrust?~~

«I dreamed of fucking your face,» he says, and he wonders what she hears in his tone that makes her whimper so sweet. «I would make a pet of you if it wouldn't break you. Do you understand what a crime it would be to see you tamed? God, but I'd like to try. Beautiful beast of a girl.»

Her hands are on his thighs and she's taking him to her throat, making wonderful little sounds. There is nothing like this, to be served like this, to feel the particular way that she chooses to touch him. He has not tamed her but for now she will pretend, and that she is willing is its own kind of victory.

~~Why is he like this, why does he always have to win, why is nothing ever enough?~~

He rests both hands on her head, runs his fingers over her scalp and the short fuzz she's left of her hair. He's petting her. He knows he's petting her. She might know that he's petting her. It's getting harder to control himself, the heat of her and the heat of him and tightening toward release. The animal in his heart claws at his ribcage and it would consume her if he let it, she can't take all of him but he wants to try to make her.

He tilts her head back to see her eyes and make her see him, and her lids are heavy with arousal and the sight of it makes his blood burn. Her tongue is more persistent or he is more sensitive or both. He thrusts against her mouth, and she gags.

~~He wants to ruin her.~~

~~Why is he like this?~~

Her loss of control pushes him over the edge, pulls the animal out of him, he is a mindless creature of pumping muscle and he is desperate to fill her with it.

~~_Why is he like this?_ ~~

She is pulling away so she can breathe and he can see his pleasure on her tongue, on her lips, he hears an animal in the sound he makes as the sight of her makes his heart spasm and his cock twitch. She is touching him and milking him and pointing him where she wants him and paints her breasts and her collarbones and he nearly cannot stand. She is excited and delighted and smiling and he is weak, she makes him _weak_ and this is the sacrifice he makes at the altar she has built from his bones.

_Nothing beside remains._

"I did it!" she says, panting and flushed and every inch of her earnest.

"Yes," he agrees.

"You came a _lot_ ," she says, wiping at her face and looking down at her own breasts. He grabs her by the wrists to pull her upward, holding her by the waist to pick her up entirely.

"... are you heavier?" he asks.

"My tail is wet," she explains. It hangs down behind her, dragging in the water. She wraps her legs around him, and he licks her breasts. Her fingers tangle in his hair; his hair is longer than hers. She tastes like skin and sweat and salt, his own arousal.

~~He could take her right here.~~

~~Why is he like this?~~

"What were you saying, before?" she asks. He does not answer, drags his teeth over her nipple. "Was it gross?"

"Careful," he warns.

"I've just been thinking about it! Sometimes. Since last time. You know?" He hums against her skin. "I mean, if _some guy_ talked about how he thought about me, I wouldn't like that. But when you do it, it's different! And that's okay! It's not being a hypocrite for those things to be different, you know?" 

He nuzzles at her neck to kiss her pulse. "Mmm."

"It's a matter of consent, for one thing. I've consented to a sexual relationship with you, so you're not just inflicting sexuality on me. Right?"

"Mmm." He carries her, careful of his steps.

"And it's like? I think I just like being thought of as a sexual being? I don't know why I said that like a question, I'm kind of thinking out loud here. Am I being too chatty?"

"Not at all," he says, as he pulls her legs free of him to turn her around.

"Oh!" She bends at the waist, falling forward, palms splayed on stone. Her tail falls between her legs, and he wraps his arm around her waist, sliding his fingers inside her. She's soaked, and that pleases him as much as anything can. " _Oh_ , that feels really—is it okay if I finish my thought?"

"Mmm."

"Okay, so I— _ooh_ —I'm cute as heck, obviously. And people like me! I'm _extremely_ lovable. But sometimes it feels like no one really takes me seriously, you know?"

"Mmm." He is listening to her heart again, and he times the curl of his fingers to match it.

"Like everyone still thinks of me as the fourteen year old who— _nnn_ —beat up Doctor Doom."

"He was defeated by a child?" 

"Totally."

"Ha!"

She giggles, and it transitions to a moan. He is erect, again. His cock rests on her back. He likes her back. It's all hard muscle and sharp shoulderblades. He makes no attempt to penetrate her—

~~He could.~~

—but enjoys the friction against her skin. 

"Anyway maybe now I have a kink for being viewed as a person capable of being sexy enough to fantasize about," she says, all in a rush, trying to get all the words out before she gets distracted. 

"Mmm." She is grinding her clit against his thumb.

"Sergei?"

"Hmm?"

"That was a hint."

His free hand presses his cock against her back, creates more friction and pressure against her. He feels her tighten around his fingers, and wonders what aspect of this is appealing to her. 

"Please, Sergei?" She is using his name on purpose. 

"I said you were pretty."

" _Sergei_ ," she whines. She is close, but she resists. "Don't try to be _nice_ , I don't —" 

"I want to sodomize you violently until I have filled your stomach from both ends with my seed."

" _O—oh!_ " She climaxes all at once, spasming on his hand, her limbs shaking. He finishes on her back as she trembles, and admires what he's done to her. She sighs, and she is perfect. 

"You were saying, _Belka_?" 

She struggles to recover her clever tongue. "It's not that I'm into gross stuff," she says. "It just feels more honest if it seems like I'm not supposed to like it." She looks over her shoulder. "What happened to the soap?" 

He points to where it has floated away in the water. 

"Soap boat!" she says, delighted. A stray impulse has him grab the base of her tail, rubbing at it with his thumb. Her whole body shudders. "Oh, that's—don't distract me! I have to actually _bathe_ at some point." She stands, wobbling a little; he hasn't let go of her tail yet. "Ew, my hands are all sandy." She bends at the knees to drag her hands through the water.

"There are worse things than sand."

"Like my _whole entire back_?" she suggests, and he chuckles. "Just because there are worse things doesn't mean I want a bunch of sand all up in my business. Have you ever seen those microscopic pictures of sand? Where you can see all the little pieces of glass and seashells and stuff? You can _literally_ see a world in a grain of sand. A squirrel! Oh man, that totally tracks. _To see a squirrel in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower_. It tracks, right?"

"Hold her tail in the palm of your hand?"

"Yes!"

"And an orgasm in an hour."

"Oh my gosh it totally works but you made it filthy." He laughs as she turns around, his hand running down the length of her tail, wet fur over his fingers. "I can't put it on Twitter like that! You're good at that, though."

"Thank you."

"You like Blake?"

"Yes."

"I didn't know that about you. That's neat. Soap boat!"

He fishes the bar of soap out of the water, rubs it between his hands. She holds her hands up above her head, poses like she is at his mercy. He soaps up her chest, uses it as an excuse to squeeze her breasts.

"Hey!"

"I am scrubbing," he scolds, and she laughs. He tugs at one of her nipples to make her squeak.

"You're just scrubbing the same spot!"

"I'm a perfectionist." He enjoys toying with her. He wishes he had more time.

~~If he kept her here~~

She huffs and turns on her toes, putting her back to him. He washes away the mess that he made of her, presses his fingers into the muscles around her spine. She groans, and nearly tips forward again. He finds a trigger point at the small of her back, and rolls his thumb into it. She _groans_ , a sound torn out from the bottom of her lungs, and her knees buckle. He has to catch her. He doesn't mind. His arms are wrapped around her waist and he nuzzles at her neck.

 __ ~~You~~  
       ~~could~~  
                ~~be~~  
                   **mine.**

"Next time do that when I'm _lying down_ ," she says, breathless.

"I thought you would like it."

"I _did_ like it. Standing back massages aren't a thing! Backrubs are for beds."

"Hmm."

"We're not going back to bed," she adds. "If we keep going I'm going to end up letting you do... bad stuff."

"Wouldn't want that."

~~If he kept her here~~

"Right," she says. "If I go under the waterfall, are there going to be sharp rocks or leeches or something?"

"It's safe," he says, letting her go. "Just don't trip."

"I'm _way_ too graceful," she assures him, shuffling slowly through the water, watching her feet. "I just don't want to cut myself and get dinosaur hepatitis."

"Is this worse than the usual kind?"

"There are no good kinds of hepatitis!" She sticks her hands beneath the falling water, and her giggle is also a shriek. "Why does it seem colder! That doesn't even make sense!" She bows her head beneath it, leans away, flails and sputters.

_cute cute cute cute cute_

"Shampoo commercials made this seem a lot more relaxing," she says, running her hands over her hair, letting water fall down her back.

"Television will rot your brain," he says, moving closer, stretching out his arm above her head to soften the way the water falls.

"That is the oldest you've ever sounded and that includes every time you have literally talked about kids these days." She steals the soap from his hand and rubs it over his chest. "I barely even _watch_ TV."

"Streaming counts."

"I watch a normal amount of TV, for background noise." She steps out of the way of the water. "Turn around so I can get your back," she orders, and he complies. 

Her hands feel small. He is unaccustomed to having someone at his back. The back of his belt is sharp and it is drugged and no one is ever meant to catch him without looking him in the eye. But they are naked and sated and she is sliding her hands over him, pressing knuckles experimentally into places she thinks might feel nice. She is no concubine, no courtesan, no femme fatale. 

It's uncomfortable, but she's trying.

"Do you like any other poets?" she asks.

"Some."

"I bet you like Whitman," she teases.

" _For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you_ ," he says, and he hears her heart skip.

"Called it! You should read me your favorite poem. I bet it's Russian."

"Maybe."

"What is it?"

"A secret."

"Aww, no fair."

"I am a very bad man," he reminds her.

"The _worst_. So are you going back with the computer science students, do you think?"

"We will see."

"You still owe me for missing my birthday, is all."

She invited him to her birthday party. Kraven the Hunter, invited to her birthday party. The party with Iron Man, with a god of thunder, with _Spider-Man_.

"Even Loki showed up! And Red Skull, but he wasn't invited. You could have fought Red Skull with me!"

"I nearly put a bullet in his brain, once."

"What!"

"I did not miss," he adds, because this is important to him. "Someone got in the way."

"I thought you didn't use guns! I thought that was, like, your _deal_. Punches only, with occasional knives."

"I do not lower myself to the touching of Nazis."

"... fair." She pulls on his waist, wraps herself around him to rest her head against his chest.

She is listening to his heartbeat.

"Maybe you can read me your favorite poem for my next birthday," she suggests.

"We will see."

_ tha thump _

  


_Perhaps if Death is kind, and there can be returning,_  
_We will come back to earth some fragrant night,_  
_And take these lanes to find the sea, and bending_  
_Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white._

 _We will come down at night to these resounding beaches_  
_And the long gentle thunder of the sea,_  
_Here for a single hour in the wide starlight_  
_We shall be happy, for the dead are free._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POEMS:
> 
>   * If Death Is Kind by Sara Teasdale
>   * I Sing the Body Electric by Walt Whitman
>   * Dear Chains by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
>   * Song of Myself by Walt Whitman
>   * Auguries of Innocence by William Blake
>   * Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley
> 



End file.
